


Cacophony

by Mellorine



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellorine/pseuds/Mellorine
Summary: After the events of The Reflection Crack'd, Marius awaits his punishment.





	Cacophony

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even close to joking about that blood and gore tag, so tread lightly.

Marius Vairosean stood outside his Lord Primarch’s chambers, helm maglocked to his waist, throat bared. He didn’t dare presume to knock; his Primarch had requested his presence at this time and so he was there. There was no need to announce his presence, as there was no way he could be anywhere else. He wondered if Julius and Lucius had already been here. He hadn’t seen them in days and didn’t much care to.

He fully expected to die in the coming minutes, hours, days, however long it pleased his Primarch. He welcomed it. The shame of what he had done to his Primarch, even in the name of misguided loyalty, burned through him. He would gladly rip out his eyes, stop up the gashes in his head that played the role of ears, tear his tongue from his mouth and his vocal chords from his throat, remove each and every one of his nerve endings and live a life of gray nothingness in penance. He would welcome torture unending. He yearned for it.

The door swung open, seemingly of its own volition. Marius entered.

Fulgrim stood before him, resplendent, beautiful beyond all compare. Beneath the violet robes he wore, not a single mark of the ignominy he’d endured at the hands of his own soldiers remained on his perfect body.

“Come.” Fulgrim’s voice was like silk in his head, slipping past all need for cacophony to send shivers of pleasure down Marius’ spine. His body moved closer as if he were a puppet with his Primarch at the end of his strings.

Fulgrim reached out and caressed Marius’ face. “Beautiful.”

Unashamedly, Marius wept. Unable to blink them away, tears shimmered in his eyes. His Primarch became a beautiful watercolor of light and sound.

“My beautiful kakaphoni,” Fulgrim whispered. “Sing for me.”

Marius felt the slap before he even registered his Primarch’s movement, and then he was on the ground, obediently howling his pleasure. Fulgrim hadn’t used anything like even a fraction of his strength, but Marius could still feel the structure of his cheekbone shatter under his Primarch’s hand. He jammed his tongue in the ragged holes left by broken teeth, reveling in the pain and taste of blood.

“Rise.”

Marius was on his feet before the last sibilant whisper left his Primarch’s lips. Fulgrim smiled approvingly, beatifically, and Marius had never felt such bliss.

He slapped Marius again.

Marius slammed to the ground again and the wires holding his mouth open trembled and sang tunelessly. He stumbled to his feet, blood drooling down his chin, and whimpered as something steely entered his Primarch’s eyes.

“Did I say you could rise?” It wasn’t a question, or at least not a question Marius knew he should answer. He dropped to his knees as if a leaden weight had been attached to them.

“Undress.” Marius shuddered and began removing his armor piece by piece. Would his Primarch use the same implements they had used on him? Would he use his bare hands? Would he simply watch, requesting Marius torture himself, a show of obedience, obedience as a show? Whichever his Primarch chose, Marius welcomed it.

He stripped down to his bodyglove but the steely look remained in his Primarch’s eyes. Marius felt naked.

“I said undress.”

Still on his knees, Marius stripped off his bodyglove, shimmying it around his ankles to pool on the ground behind him. The cold air pricked at his skin, caressing the scars of service and pleasure incised on his body. Head bowed, he glanced up at his Primarch.

The beatific smile had returned to Fulgrim’s face. His eyes traced the lines of Marius’ scars like the blade of a knife.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Fulgrim asked.

Marius remembered. He remembered every word that passed his Primarch’s lips, etched them into his memory, replayed them to a soundtrack of screams, his own and others’. Still, to his shame, he couldn’t be sure to which words his Primarch referred, and he said as much, eyes downcast with shame.

Fulgrim took his jaw in hand, thumb dragging along the ruin of Marius’ cheekbone, and Marius moaned with the agony of it.

“I was beginning to enjoy it.”

A soft rustling shook Marius from his reverie and he looked up as his Primarch’s robe fell away. Fulgrim was utterly naked underneath, his alabaster skin and perfect musculature marred only by the still-healing scars left by the apothecary’s knives. His member rose from a tuft of hair as pure white as that on his head, and Marius felt his own ache in response.

Then Fulgrim moved, again faster than Marius could register and that same perfect cock was hilted to the back of his throat. Even with his mouth wired open in a perpetual scream, his Primarch was still nearly too large to fit, as large to Marius as Marius was to the humans he played with. He gagged and choked, his breath coming in short gasps through his nose, mewling as his Primarch scraped against his ruined gumline. Nothing was ever enough, with the rare exception of the riot of battle, but this, his Primarch clutching his head with strength enough to make bones creak and teeth crack, this was nearly too much. Marius was nearly always hard these days, thanks to the ministrations of Fabius Bile reworking his brain to find pleasure in every sensation, but that excitement was a poor echo of what he felt now.

He was blessed. Used by a god, that god’s hands gripping his skull and fucking his throat and bruising his mouth with each thrust. He felt one of the wires around his jaw snap under his Primarch’s grip, whipping back and lashing his face. He ached for this to be how he died.

With a growl, his Primarch came, hot seed dripping down Marius’ throat. He suckled at it like a lamb at the teat. It was his Primarch’s gift to him, the flavor sublime, and he would sooner cast himself into the void of space than waste any.

Fulgrim withdrew, a string of saliva connecting him to Marius’ purpling lips. Marius whined, chasing after him. _Don’t leave_ , he didn’t dare say. _Please, don’t stop._

“On your back.” Fulgrim’s voice was rougher now, a fact Marius only caught due to his heightened senses. His hearts soared to be even obliquely the cause of it. He lay back against the cold floor and stared up at his Primarch. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, but Fulgrim took the problem in hand by holding him down at the wrists in one giant fist. Marius felt the tiny bones there quietly snap and shivered as the pleasure shot through his arms.

Fulgrim’s other hand found purchase at Marius’ hip and, without preamble, entered him. Marius’ howled, _screamed,_ as his kakaphoniii augmentations came to the fore. The air shivered and his hearing popped but his Primarch never slowed, never relented. In one fluid movement, perfect in this as in all things Fulgrim did, he sheathed himself in Marius. Marius felt something tear, then tear further as his Primarch drew back and entered him again, and he would have screamed louder if he could.

Marius blacked out. For a moment, for a minute, he didn’t know and only cared because any moment lost in his lord’s presence was a moment to be mourned, but when he came to his Primarch was still moving on top of him, fucking him smoothly, relentlessly, beautifully, perfectly. He didn’t have to glance down to know that blood sheathed Fulgrim’s cock, and biting agony sheared through his pelvis where his Primarch had gripped, bruising skin and cracking bone. His entire body sang with pleasure.

He had no idea how many times he’d climaxed, but his come lay sticky on his stomach and chest and dripped down from where it had splattered against his Primarch. Marius watched it drip in syncopation with his Primarch’s thrusts, drip-thrust, drip-thrust, drip-thrust.

Fulgrim’s grip tightened on his wrists and hip, grinding already cracked bone, eliciting further shrieks from his son. White heat poured into Marius, but his Primarch never lessened his pace. Marius only faintly heard himself pleading _more more please fuck me hurt me harder_ _please my lord my primarch my god_ and he was mortified to hear anything approaching a demand cross his lips but his Primarch only smiled a smile more suited to one of the Wolves and granted him his wish.

Marius was going to die. His Primarch was fucking him to his death, torturing him more perfectly than Marius and his brothers had even begun to accomplish. This was the perfection the Emperor’s Children had always dreamed of.

He saw stars. Black holes. Galaxies. The vortices of solar systems spinning into life and into death, and above it all his Primarch’s face.

And then Fulgrim was slowing, slowing, stopping firmly still rooted inside Marius as Marius’ insides writhed and trembled. He lifted his hand from where it held Marius’ wrists and stroked his son’s chest, leaving purple-black stripes of bruise on his skin.

Marius was crying, bleeding, aching from pain deeper and more intimate than he’d ever known before. He loved his Primarch. He loved him. He loved him, he worshipped him, he wanted to die in this moment so he could never feel the ache of the loss he knew would come after.

Fulgrim cupped his face as he’d done what seemed like years ago, so, so gentle. “I forgive you,” he said.

Marius screamed in ecstasy and came one last time, and then all was black.


End file.
